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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547595">when the world seems a dungeon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewelinakl/pseuds/ewelinakl'>ewelinakl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>between the lines [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon verse, F/M, Geralt has two hands and a big big heart, Geralt is confused, Jaskier and Yen are perfectly fine sharing their man, M/M, Shameless Smut, even if Geral has some Serious Doubts, jaskier's pov, set during the time of contempt, some almost friendly banter, sweet debauchery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:48:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewelinakl/pseuds/ewelinakl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Geralt could sleep with whomever he pleased, he could live under one roof with Yennefer for years, and it wouldn't change a thing — at the end of the day, Jaskier was still special, one in a kind, the only regular, mortal human that had a witcher in love with him. Jealousy would be a waste of time because Geralt would get back to him sooner or later, Jaskier would get to write his verse right after Yennefer was done with her chorus, he only needed to wait."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>between the lines [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when the world seems a dungeon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the title comes from Charles Baudelaire's 'Spleen'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier woke up drenched in sweat. The attic of Bernie Hofmeier's house was unbearably hot and stuffy, even though they'd left the windows wide open.</p>
<p>A fly landed on his face and he shuddered, feeling its sticky legs on his skin. Disgusting. He swatted the insect away and pushed Geralt's arm off his chest. Breathing was hard enough already in this weather, even without a heavy weight squashing his lungs.</p>
<p>Gods, he hated mornings.</p>
<p>Geralt finally rolled onto his back, unsticking from Jaskier's body, giving him some room to breathe and stretch. He grabbed the water jug and took a long sip. Some water trickled down his neck and chest, so he pushed the jug into Geralt's hands, grabbing the bedsheets to wipe himself dry.</p>
<p>"A storm is brewing," Geralt said in-between sips, looking through the window, where leaden clouds hung low over the horizon.</p>
<p>Jaskier sniffed the air, humidity and the muddy scent of the nearby ponds, and a note of ozone somewhere among it all. Swallows circled the air right above the ground, crows cawed from the alders along the road.</p>
<p>A storm was coming, indeed. And with it, would come Yennefer.</p>
<p>She was long overdue and Jaskier was more than sure it had something to do with Ciri, the Lion Cub of Cintra. This time, Yennefer of Vengerberg, the fearless raven-haired witch, was afraid to face Geralt. It didn't bode well if anyone asked Jaskier.</p>
<p>Most of her encounters with Geralt ended in a heartbreak, which was the reason why Jaskier disliked her for such a long time. He thought she'd been toying with the witcher, hurting him on purpose, and he was angry because Geralt was miserable enough as he was, he didn't need anyone to keep breaking his poor heart.</p>
<p>But somewhere along the way, Jaskier realised that it wasn't so easy, that Yennefer kept going back to Geralt because she truly loved him and hoped that this time it wouldn't end as it always had. They were both equally foolish and blinded by their love — fueled by the last wish and destiny. They were both equally miserable every time they split, and equally wanting whenever they got back together, promising to themselves that this time they wouldn't make the same mistakes.</p>
<p>Jaskier understood it when Yennefer saved him from Rience and thanked him for being there for Geralt. They were no different — Jaskier and her — both in love and devoted to the witcher, yet unable to be with him full-time, both too untamed, too restless, incapable of committing.</p>
<p>They both hated the other one at first. She hated him because she was jealous and thought he'd try to steal Geralt away from her. He hated her because she kept breaking the heart of a man he loved and he believed she did it just because she could. They had both been wrong, though, and once they realised it, they understood that they needed each other as much as Geralt needed both of them.</p>
<p>Second-raters such as Valdo Marx who falsely called themselves poets would call this situation a love triangle. It was nonsense, though. Jaskier and Yennefer were two ends of a string with Geralt as a bead they kept passing back and forth between them.</p>
<p>They offered each other breaks, some time to run free and relish in debauchery before settling in for a while.</p>
<p>Geralt ran into Yennefer and forgot about the whole wide world for months, sometimes years, allowing Jaskier to dive straight into life as he knew and loved it — getting in trouble, sleeping around with all the wrong people, snooping for the sheer fun of it, blowing money on finery and wine, spreading lies. After a while, he got a little bored, a little lovesick, a little wistful, and that's when he wrote his best poems and composed his greatest songs. He'd sit alone in front of a fire, long into the night, thinking of his witcher sleeping soundly in Yennefer's arms, and he wouldn't be jealous, really, just yearning for his voice of reason, for the man who knew him like the back of his hand, who could keep him safe and sound.</p>
<p>And just as Jaskier's longing grew too profound to serve as writing inspiration, Yennefer and Geralt fell apart again and the witcher came to him in search of normalcy and simplicity, an uncomplicated, steady relationship with clear rules, where neither expected impossible from the other. Jaskier got his fair share of domestication, gathered inspiration for the future lovesick days, and got fucked the way no one else could fuck him. And then it was rinse and repeat, over and over. And they were all happy with it.</p>
<p>Well, Yennefer and Jaskier were happy with it. Geralt was miserable, but only because he refused to acknowledge that this setup didn't hurt anybody. Somehow, he was convinced that Jaskier must be wounded by him getting back with his witch, that he must be secretly jealous. But why would he? Geralt could sleep with whomever he pleased, he could live under one roof with Yennefer for years, and it wouldn't change a thing — at the end of the day, Jaskier was still special, one in a kind, the only regular, mortal human that had a witcher in love with him. Jealousy would be a waste of time because Geralt would get back to him sooner or later, Jaskier would get to write his verse right after Yennefer was done with her chorus, he only needed to wait.</p>
<p>Sometimes he wished Geralt realised that. Sometimes he was a little tired with the affection Geralt showered him with right before running to his witch, sometimes it was too overbearing, too sticky and desperate. Sometimes Jaskier found himself wishing for Geralt to leave him sooner just so he could catch a breath.</p>
<p>Now was one of those times.</p>
<p>Everything had been fine until that fight in Oxenfurt, until Geralt sent Jaskier to Dorian and set up a meeting in Gors Velen. Then he started overthinking again. By the time they got to Hirundum, to Bernie Hofmeier's farm, the witcher was moody and brooding, answering in snappy monosyllables only to apologise for them later, going back and forth between avoiding touching Jaskier and not letting him out of his arms.</p>
<p>Jaskier sighed heavily, slumping back into the pillows. He couldn't wait for Yennefer to arrive, even if the mess he'd have to clean afterward would be enormous this time. He was curious of the child, too, the little lion cub who brought death wherever she went. He wasn't supposed to write about her anymore and he wouldn't, not on paper, anyway, only in his head, a few verses here and there, a few mental notes for the better times.</p>
<p>Geralt inched closer to him, his hand hovering over Jaskier's forearm, hesitant. When Jaskier tilted his head to meet the witcher's eyes, the guilt was there, drowning out everything else.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Jaskier asked, even though he knew.</p>
<p>It was Yennefer, riding with the storm, straight to Hirundum.</p>
<p>Geralt shook his head, hoisting himself up on the elbow to kiss Jaskier. Jaskier sighed into this kiss, exasperated because this could be so easy if it wasn't for Geralt's stupid qualms, his inability to talk about emotions.</p>
<p>Geralt rolled on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, deepening the kiss, his touch feather-light over Jaskier's ribs.</p>
<p>"Oh, hell no," Jaskier said, biting into Geralt's lip as he pressed his hand flat against Geralt's breastbone and pushed him away.</p>
<p>Geralt sat up, mouth agape, eyes round and shocked. Good.</p>
<p>Jaskier put his hands on Geralt's shoulders, pushing him back, climbing on top of him, straddling his hips.</p>
<p>"I'm not in the mood for this mushy nonsense," he announced before biting hard into Geralt's neck, pressing his wrists into the bedsheets.</p>
<p>Geralt could free himself no problem, but he lay there underneath Jaskier, as if too shocked to move. Good. Great. Maybe he would learn something from this.</p>
<p>They were both naked already — sleeping in clothes was impossible here, in this attic hotter than hell and more humid than a bathhouse, which saved them both time and effort now.</p>
<p>Jaskier leaned back, searching for his rosehip oil — he was spending a fortune on it these days, really, but he wasn't going to lower himself to using animal-derived lubricants, he had standards, thank you very much. Geralt immediately reached out for the vial, but Jaskier slapped his hands away. He wasn't in the mood for the slow torture of Geralt's ministrations, either. He was tired and restless and wanted to get plowed, filled to the brim, ravaged. He wanted Geralt's cock up his ass and he wanted it now, without long preparations.</p>
<p>Geralt watched with bated breath as Jaskier fingered his own ass open, arching his back and biting his lips. He knew he was a sight to behold right now, he'd done this in front of a mirror enough times to know, but he didn't give the witcher time to get an eyeful of it, taking hold of Geralt's cock and lowering himself onto it as soon as he was sure he wouldn't tear a muscle doing that.</p>
<p>He was a little too quick, a little too eager, but he swallowed back a whimper, pressing his hands flat against Geralt's chest, giving himself a moment to relax. Geralt's hands crept up his thighs, ready to take hold of Jaskier's hips, but he wasn't having that. He sunk his nails deep into the skin on Geralt's breastbone, making the witcher hiss and withdraw. Jaskier smiled wickedly, spreading his legs a little further, distributing his weight evenly before drawing his hips up in a slow, calculated movement only to push down with force. Geralt gasped, looking at Jaskier's face, drinking in his expression. Jaskier smiled at that, leaning forward to kiss the witcher on the half-open mouth and start riding him proper, fast and careless, biting into Geralt's lips and dragging his nails over the witcher's skin.</p>
<p>He arched his spine, throwing his head back, closing his eyes, because he didn't need to look, he knew the way Geralt looked at him as he drew his fingertips from Jaskier's neck all the way down to his hip. Jaskier slapped his hand away before he touched his cock.</p>
<p>Before he grew too tired to keep up the pace, he took Geralt by the chin, prompting him to sit up. Geralt was more than willing to, his hands immediately closing on Jaskier's hips, ready to keep them still. And good, fine, Jaskier wanted to be kept still and fucked hard, but not like that, not in a position that forced him to look into Geralt's stupidly guilty eyes. So he pried the witcher's fingers open, dismounted his ridiculously thick thighs, and turned around, digging his elbows in the sheets and sticking his ass up.</p>
<p>Geralt didn't move for a while, just sat there, breathing hard and staring at Jaskier's lovely bottom, which — Jaskier knew — looked particularly good from this angle. The bard was a vain creature and liked to be admired, but right now his cock was throbbing and he really wanted Geralt to hurry up.</p>
<p>"What are you waiting for?" he asked, arching his back and spreading his legs a little wider.</p>
<p>Geralt gasped and then he was all over Jaskier, fucking him without a rhythm to it, thrusting desperately into the heat of the bard's ass, digging his fingers into Jaskier's hips.</p>
<p>Jaskier bit into a pillow to keep from waking the Hofmeiers and their children while Geralt plowed into him relentlessly, his fingers traveling from Jaskier's hips to his chest and neck.</p>
<p>"Mhm, yes," Jaskier purred, pushing himself up, pressing his back against Geralt's chest, guiding his hand a little further up. "Choke me, witcher."</p>
<p>Geralt shuddered, closing what little space was still between their bodies, pressing his fingers against the sides of Jaskier's throat as he pounded the bard's ass. Jaskier moaned, throwing his head back, reaching up to pull Geralt's hair, until the witcher's mouth was on his shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle. Geralt's other hand found its way to Jaskier's cock and this time Jaskier didn't push it away even though he knew this would be too much.</p>
<p>And sure enough, he came just a moment after. A long, blinding moment that left him breathless and boneless, slumping against Geralt who kept fucking him, faster and harder, his cock brushing against Jaskier's prostate with every single stroke, and Jaskier was about to combust, turn into a fucking supernova.</p>
<p>When Geralt finally came, after what felt like a lifetime, Jaskier was so beautifully fucked-out, he could only fall in a heap, sticking to the bedsheets and gasping for air. Geralt lay down next to him, his face relaxed, mouth curled into a small, reflexive smile. The guilt was gone from his eyes, if only temporarily.</p>
<p>"Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching out to touch Jaskier's neck, where he'd pressed his fingers before.</p>
<p>Jaskier rolled his eyes. "I'm not made of glass," he said. "You could've choked me harder."</p>
<p>He could swear Geralt's breath picked up a little. Seemed like they were going to expand their repertoire.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The rest of the day was painfully uninteresting. Geralt walked around the ponds, all white hair and black leather, sun catching in his sword. Jaskier sat on the porch, strumming the strings of his lute, trying to find the right melody for his new song and failing. The Hofmeiers went about their life, as usual, it was a lot of physical labor that involved far too much dirt and literal shit.</p>
<p>The storm was coming closer, even though Bernie Hofmeier kept swearing it would pass by. Jaskier knew it wouldn't, it would ride straight to Hirundum, black-haired and violet-eyed, searching for a witcher.</p>
<p>In the evening, when Geralt finally gave up on roaming around the ponds, like a damned soul searching for solace, the storm crept closer, bringing the Wild Hunt with it.</p>
<p>It was a strange time for the Hunt, too early in the year, too early in the evening. It was stranger yet for the Hunt to accompany a witch. The strangest part was Geralt's reaction to it, though, the visible distress, the immediate readiness to jump forward and use his sword against something that was out of this world, that was hardly there at all.</p>
<p>That's how Jaskier knew the lonely rider wasn't Yennefer.</p>
<p>It was Ciri, holding onto her horse's neck for dear life, the alders bending in the wind, as if they wanted to grab the girl with their gnarly branches. The Hunt chased her, almost corporeal, horrifying, and Jaskier's instinct was to run and hide, but he couldn't, he was transfixed by this scene — Ciri's hair flowing in the wind, the Hunt dark and loud behind her, Yennefer on her black horse, hunting the Hunt, and then Geralt, black-clad in leather, with milk-white hair and a cold iron sword reflecting the lightning that split the sky in half.</p>
<p>Jaskier hardly understood any of it, really, he had no idea why the Hunt left, was it Yennefer's spell, was it Geralt's sword, was it Ciri's shriek, was it something else entirely? It didn't matter, though, because the next scene in this act was just as captivating. It would make a wonderful ballad one day.</p>
<p>They both called the girl and she froze, looking between them, forced to choose and unable to. Jaskier couldn't see his face, but he didn't need to, he could imagine her expression — despair, denial, anger, and then, finally, acceptance. Before her decision time went up, Ciri feigned fainting.</p>
<p>Geralt and Yennefer carried her inside, their hands touching, their faces just inches apart. There was anger in the eyes of both, but Jaskier knew them well enough — they were going to have a massive fight and then live happily ever after for a month or two.</p>
<p>Needless to say, that night he had the bed to himself. He slept stretched diagonally with nothing restraining his breath.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>The order of the world hasn't changed, the sun rose in the East, water was still wet, and Geralt and Yennefer made up, even though Ciri had serious doubts about it.</p>
<p>She was a clever child, but a child nonetheless, she didn't have enough experience to understand certain things. She had experience in areas Jaskier wished to never explore, on the other hand.</p>
<p>They got along very well, to Geralt's genuine surprise and Yennefer's feigned disapproval. Ciri was musical and picked up songs very quickly, constantly asking him to play her some of her favourite ballads, occasionally asking for a song that spoke less of the spiritual and more of the corporeal side of love. Jaskier made a whole show of looking out for Yennefer and then played some of the more appropriate pieces.</p>
<p>Funnily enough, the one who eventually scolded him for exposing the princess to such obscenities was Geralt.</p>
<p>They had just gotten back to Gors Velen and rented an apartment in one of the best quarters of the city. Perks of being a part of a witch's entourage. The place was huge, nicely furnished and had a massive bath in one of the bathrooms. Jaskier could probably swim in it and he was absolutely going to, as soon as Geralt got off his back with his stupid prudishness.</p>
<p>"She's fifteen, witcher, she's curious," Jaskier countered, waving his hand dismissively. "It's natural at that age."</p>
<p>"She's still a child," Geralt barked. "And I don't think—"</p>
<p>"The bard is right, Geralt."</p>
<p>Gods almighty, was it Yennefer of Vengerberg taking his side in an argument? They were truly entering the new era.</p>
<p>Geralt gaped at her, even more shocked than Jaskier. Yennefer shrugged.</p>
<p>"She's still a child, but she's getting interested in sex, there's nothing wrong or strange about it. And he hasn't been singing anything particularly vulgar," she said, glancing at Jaskier with a vicious smile. "Meaning, he hasn't been singing his songs."</p>
<p>Jaskier grinned. "I'm sure she knows what your tits look like, what's the point of singing about that?"</p>
<p>Yennefer raised one perfectly arched brow. "That reminds me that I never slapped the shit out of you for staring at me there," she said.</p>
<p>It was true, she never did, even though she'd promised she would. Jaskier reckoned she must've forgotten after seeing the golden dragon and listening to all it had to say.</p>
<p>"I know your confraternity has the law in disregard, even if it's you who wrote it, but I'm pretty sure that sentence has long expired," he said. "How many years has it been? Twenty?"</p>
<p>She grew serious all of a sudden, studying his face. He blinked, raising his eyebrows, far more unkempt than hers, but still perfectly neat compared to Geralt's. "You haven't changed much," Yennefer said with a note of surprise in her tone. "What's your secret, bard?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I'm really a full-blood elf," he said, ostentatiously tucking his hair behind his perfectly human ear. Yennefer pressed her lips together. "Fine, alright, I'm a vampire and I retain my youth by drinking the blood of virgins."</p>
<p>"No type of a vampire actually does that," Geralt said, finally joining the conversation. He still looked bewildered, but at least the topic was something he felt confident in. "It's a common misconception fueled by sexual desires and—"</p>
<p>"Geralt," Yennefer said, cutting him short. "He knows that. How much time has he spent around you, hunting all sorts of monsters? He just likes the sound of his own voice, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Why, I do, I have a beautiful voice," Jaskier agreed, batting his eyelashes. "It's good skincare," he said. "As shocking as it might be for you, you really don't need to sell your soul to the devil for good looks."</p>
<p>"Bold of you to assume I've ever had a soul to trade," she said. "Anyway, I've wasted enough time here. I'm sure the maid has drawn my bath already. You should join me, Geralt, I can still smell the water plants and mud on you."</p>
<p>Geralt moved towards her but turned his head to Jaskier mid-step. This was an uncommon situation, the three of them rarely stayed under one roof, Geralt never had to make a choice in front of them.</p>
<p>Jaskier stretched languidly. "Well, I have a song to work on," he said. "I'd like to take a bath later, if you don't mind, Yennefer."</p>
<p>"Anytime you want, as long as I'm not there," she agreed, making him grin. He saluted mockingly and turned away towards the room where he'd left his belongings. "Jaskier," Yennefer called after him.</p>
<p>"Yes?" He stopped, looking at her over his shoulder. She was smiling at him.</p>
<p>"We'll be going to Aretuza for the gathering. I can't invite you to the official banquet, but there will be plenty of less politically engaged magicians as well as artists, vagabonds and other people of your sort having their own ball, I'm sure. You should come with us."</p>
<p>Geralt gawked at her. Jaskier smiled, bowing his head ever so slightly. "I'm honoured by your kind invitation," he said. "I suppose I shall accompany you. Who knows, perhaps I'll find some fresh inspiration there."</p>
<p>Yennefer smirked. "I'm sure you will, bard."</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>And he did indeed.</p>
<p>He had just come out to catch a breath. Someone started smoking inside and he couldn't stand the stench of tobacco in the air, clinging to his clothes and hair. There was a party in almost any other room, he would soon find himself a new company, one that wouldn't smoke, hopefully.</p>
<p>The night was warm, the air heavy with the scent of flowers, stars bright over the island and the cloisters of Loxia. Jaskier took a deep breath, feeling the salty breeze on his face. How beautiful it must be to study here, how very unlike his old school.</p>
<p>Even cicadas stopped making noise in the trees and bushes and it was perfectly quiet until Yennefer's shout pierced the silence. Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head. She must've missed that cock, judging by the intensity of her reactions.</p>
<p>"That's the witch from your ballads, isn't it?" Jaskier had seen this man watching him a while ago, before he left the room. "I saw her coming back from the banquet, together with the witcher. It was the witcher, right? It's them you write about."</p>
<p>Jaskier turned around to take a better look at his interlocutor. He was cute, nothing outstanding, but pleasant to the eye with his brown hair and dark eyes. He had nice lips, too. "I don't disclose the sources of my inspiration," Jaskier said, raising a brow.</p>
<p>The man chuckled softly, lowering his head. "I'm sorry, I just needed a pretext to speak to you," he admitted, smiling disarmingly. "Your fame precedes you, master bard."</p>
<p>Jaskier met his gaze, tilting his head to the side. "Which sort of fame?" he asked.</p>
<p>The man stepped closer, now Jaskier could hear his breath, it seemed unnaturally fast after all the time he'd spent with Geralt. "All sorts," the man said, leaning in; his eyes were the colour of fresh chestnuts from up close. "I was wondering if you were perhaps looking for a new source of inspiration," he said, his breath tickling Jaskier's neck.</p>
<p>"I might be," Jaskier said, holding his gaze.</p>
<p>"I have many a story to share, master bard," the man said, closing the space between them. His lips were wonderfully soft, his hands hot against Jaskier's skin. "I also have a female companion who could share some of her stories with you, if you were interested," he added, moving his mouth to Jaskier's ear. "We could have a little talk, the three of us, what do you say?"</p>
<p>Jaskier sighed, biting into his lip to hold back a smile. Sweet debauchery, how he missed it.</p>
<p>"There's never too much inspiration," he said. "Lead the way, my friend."</p>
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